


What could possibly go wrong?

by BearlyMadeIt



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Babysitting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Confusion, F/M, Feelings, Friendship, Humor, Kid Fic, Kid Stephen Strange, Magic, Magical Accidents, Magical Artifacts, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21989845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearlyMadeIt/pseuds/BearlyMadeIt
Summary: After a not so good start into the morning, Stephen is tasked with decorating the Christmas tree.To pep things up, he tries his luck with some magical snow. What could possibly go wrong, right? It's just silly snow!---Stephen accidentally turns into a child, the cloak has to babysit and Christine and Wong are left to tell the Avengers the Sorcerer Supreme is currently unavailable. Until he is, because as if little Stephen would miss out on meeting the Avengers!
Relationships: Christine Palmer & Stephen Strange, Christine Palmer/Stephen Strange, Clint Barton & Stephen Strange, Natasha Romanov & Stephen Strange, Peter Parker & Stephen Strange, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	What could possibly go wrong?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lita/gifts).



> Based on a prompt by the above-mentioned person to turn Stephen into a child.
> 
> I loved the idea, so here we go!

Carefully putting a Christmas ornament onto their tree, which felt like the most heroic task with his stupid trembling fingers, Stephen hummed to Jingle Bells in the background. Glancing at Christine, who was humming and decorating alongside him, he smiled softly.

"Sorry about yesterday." He said again. They had wanted to decorate the tree then, not this morning.

Christine glanced at him, an amused smile on her lips. "Oh, it was work. No worries." Back then, no 12 hours earlier, she had been annoyed. Badly annoyed. Pissed even. She had been looking forward to spending time with Stephen and cloak all day long, and her day had been an insane 12-hour shift with more hurt than the last week combined. Her highlights were a girl losing her finger going ice skating, an elderly man getting crushed by his own Christmas tree and a young boy deciding to swallow a damn Christmas tree ball (whole, of course), making everyone wonder how the hell he did it. Thinking of spending some alone time with her boyfriend was the one thing which had gotten her through the day, and then this son of a bitch (condolences to his mother) had to work!

"Besides, I don't see you feathered every day." She snickered amused while placing a glass star on the branch in front of her. Stephen had gotten back through his portal, back from whatever dimension he had gone to do whatever the hell he did and was covered in feathers. Soft fluffy green feathers from head to toe on nearly every part of his body.

Stephen grumbled beside her. "I'll need days to get rid of all of them." He whined.

Christine hummed lowly. "We'll manage." She said warmly, leaned over and ripped a green fluffy thing off his neck, making Stephen squeal in pain.

"Don't do that without warning."

"It hurts either way." She retorted, pressed a kiss against his (for now) feather-free neck and resumed decorating their tree.

While she grabbed the next decoration, her pager went off. Christine pressed her eyes shut and sighed a long sigh. "Oh, come on." She whispered to herself and dug through her jeans pocket to look at her pager. Another long sigh followed. "I gotta go." She said eventually after staring at the code displayed.

"Everything okay?" Stephen asked concerned, looking at her.

"Yeah. No. Can you decorate the tree alone? I want to focus on baking cookies whenever I get back."

"Of course, I can decorate a tree alone."

She smiled at his snarky reply. Of course, he could.

\----

Once he and cloak (or rather cloak and he, but he wouldn't ever admit to that) had finished placing ornaments on the tree, a star on top, because cloak had insisted on it, Stephen hummed at their handy work. The tree looked brilliant. Like everything he did.

Yet…

Maybe…

"What do you think of magical snow?" He asked cloak, who tilted its collar and then gestured a no.

"Yeah, I like the idea too." Cloak rolled its collar. As if Stephen would care for feedback once he put his mind on something. It watched him for a while, save from any snow from a little distance. Watched him draw rune after rune, never fully satisfied with the result. Damn braggart.

Shaking its collar, cloak turned away to float to the kitchen. It would check on their cookie ingredients because if they were missing something it would have to send Stephen shopping. Watching Stephen cast his spells was a waste of time. He'd need ages until he was satisfied. Might be, the snow was not white enough, cold enough, snowy enough. It hadn't come far, when a flash of light blinded it, even with its back to the living room door.

_No!_

This couldn't be good!

Swirling around, it rushed back into the living room, half expecting to see the tree and half the room on fire, because light flashes were never a good sign, but the tree stood solemnly in its spot.

Cloak stopped, looking around frantically. Where was Stephen? Where was its master?!

Calm down, cloak told itself without much success and floated around the tree. He had to be here! He had to be. Couldn't have gone (might have killed himself) no no. Cloak would know if Stephen was dead. Cloak would

Its frantic panic came to a sudden stop when it saw a little figure sit by the tree. It wore Stephen's clothes, that much was obvious. Approaching the little one carefully, it saw the soft, green feathers scattered around it. The watch Christine had gifted Stephen a lifetime ago lay on the ground, discarded, forgotten.

Extending one of its ends, it touched the shoulder of the thing before it. The body wearing the too big shirt turned and looked at it. Blue eyes staring at it in wonder. It was Stephen. It was definitely Stephen. The face, the eyes. Just younger. Way too young.

The eyes stared at it for some long seconds, a frown appearing on the too-young face.

"What are you?" A voice, high and gentle, which cloak had never heard, asked. "I mean, I don't believe in Santa, but" the eyes switched to the Christmas tree beside him, back to it. "Are you his cape or something?"

Cloak was too baffled to be insulted. Too worried to bother.

Little Stephen didn't recognize it. If he didn't know his cloak, he wouldn't know anything.

"Helloou?" Little Stephen looked at it, seemingly expecting an answer of some sort. He wouldn't understand its gesturing. He wouldn't…

Cloak gestured around and shook its collar.

Little Stephen stared at it for a long while. "You… can't talk?" He offered, making cloak nod. At least that worked.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Stephen said and picked a feather off the ground, turning it between his fingers. "Did someone kill your budgerigar?"

Cloak shook its collar a no. They didn't have a bird to kill. Whatever Stephen had done, it had removed the feathers and – cloak stared at the hand holding the feather. Calm. Not trembling.

What had Stephen done? Eliminating the feathers, okay, possible, but healing his hands?

In the meantime, little Stephen got to his feet, the far too big pants dropping to the ground and the boy sat down instantly again, blushing scarlet.

"Do you have fitting clothes somewhere?"

Cloak shook its collar a no.

The blushing deepened. "Ehm… do you have a longer shirt or something?" He asked embarrassed.

Cloak tilted its collar confusedly, looking at the red-faced boy, the pants laying on -

Oh.

If his clothes were too big, his boxer shorts would be as well.

It swayed from side to side, gestured for the little Stephen to wait, a hundred percent certain he hadn't understood him and floated off in a rush.

Some 5 minutes later, cloak returned with a stash of shirts and a belt. Little Stephen stood in the middle of the room, seemingly holding onto his underwear, and looked around curiously. The fact he didn't have fitting clothes didn't seem to stop him from looking around. At least, he hadn't left the room.

The boy literally bolted at the belt, pulled his shirt up with one hand and froze, letting it drop back into place.

"Can you… leave or turn around please?" He asked, looking terribly uncomfortable.

Cloak huffed. As if there was any part of Stephen's body it hadn't seen in one way or another – floating in on its master and Christine wasn't always a good idea – but it still floated out of the room, giving the boy his privacy. Little Stephen didn't know who it was. Little Stephen didn't know he didn't need to be embarrassed in front of it. Little Stephen didn't know anything.

It had to tell Wong and Christine.

How, though? It couldn't just leave the little one!

"I'm done." The little one yelled, which prompted cloak to peek into the room. Stephen had slipped into his favorite shirt, some part of his memory seemed to be intact, cloak realized with relief, even if only subconscious, and probably used the belt to keep his boxer shorts in place.

"Do you really don't have any clothes for me?" The boy asked again, probably hoping its answer would be a different one this time around. Again, cloak shook its collar a no, which elicited a sigh from the boy. "Well, then." He said and turned to look around again.

\----

Stephen glanced at Santa's floating cape every now and then, while looking around the room a second time. A huge TV, the Christmas tree, books, a couch.

"Do I have a room?" He asked. He lived here, right? The place felt like home, for sure, so he had to have a room here. He wanted to get some toys or… while thinking about getting some toys, he realized he couldn't remember owning any toys. Yet, he knew he didn't remember much. He had known the second he had looked around, sitting by the tree. For some reason, it didn't seem to bother him. Like Santa's floating cape didn't seem to bother him. He knew he was safe with it, however ludicrous it must sound.

He watched the cape nod and beamed at it. Maybe, he would find some clothes (and toys) in his room. It would be laughable if not!

Following the cape through the house, a damn huge house, Stephen grinned happily. He would love showing this place off to his friends, he surely had. Only because he didn't remember didn't mean he didn't have friends. He bet he did, just like he had a living cape. Maybe, he had a medical condition. Forgetting everything every day, because his short-time memory was screwed, or something like that. He must have fallen asleep by the tree yesterday, helping his parents decorate, and then woken up, his memory blank as ever. Didn't explain the too-big clothes and that Santa's cape insisted they didn't have any fitting ones around, but it sounded damn right to his ears.

Passing a doorway, Stephen froze, his head snapped around.

"Wooow." He said amazed and ran into the room, glancing at all sorts of weapons with big eyes. He went straight for the axes, wanting to take one out of the display, feel its hilt, its weight, play around with it but the cape literally wrapped around him, ripped him off his feet and floated him out the room. Stephen struggled against it, tried trashing, but he could barely move.

He yelled and whined and cursed and whined some more, trying to grab anything close by, but the cape floated high enough for him to be unable to reach anything.

"Those are my toys, I know it!" Stephen whined sullenly but was dumped outside the room nonetheless. The cape turned, locked the door and shoved crying him on without much heart.

"I want to get my toys!" Stephen whined and tried to dash around his babysitter (that's what it had to be!), but Santa's cape caught him mercilessly and basically dragged him on, until it dumped him in another room, floating in the doorway. Surely, to keep him from getting back to his toys.

Stephen scoffed and looked around. A huge bed, a wardrobe, books scattered around. He huffed again and jumped onto the bed, which felt oddly familiar. Had to be his bed, then. He jumped on it for a bit, trying to annoy the cape to move out of the doorway, but it didn't seem to bother, so he stopped. Just dropped down onto his bed and looked around.

Boring.

His room was boring.

Sighing heavily, he sat up again and –

He stopped when he saw the picture on his nightstand. Grabbing it, he looked at the happy smiling couple on the photo. Had to be his parents. He stared at the two oddly familiar faces, he didn't recognize and sighed. The woman had to be his mum. He placed a finger on the glass, tracing her face carefully. He missed her. He missed her more than anything. Realizing what he was doing (Oh, damn it, he had to be a momma's boy…) he sat up straight and looked at the two faces. His mum was… he missed her. He wanted to see her again. Best right now. Get hugged and feel safe and secure, but his dad…

There was nothing when he looked at his face. Absolutely nothing. Not even a feeling. Just a seemingly endless void. He didn't care for his father.

Where his parents divorced, maybe? Had his dad broken up with his mum, leaving them behind and breaking her heart? They looked happy on the picture, for sure. If he had just left her and them… Stephen growled darkly, liking his dad less with every second. How could he dare just leave them?

Still… why did they have adult-sized male clothes? Did… Stephen's eyes widened when his head presented him with two possibilities. The first, his dad was a lazy ass on top of everything else and hadn't even bothered to pick up his clothes. Maybe, his mum hadn't gotten around to throwing them out yet, or maybe she didn't care all too much, because Stephen at least liked some of those. (His shirt was awesome!)

Or, and he hated to even think about it even more, his mum was dating someone. His. Mother. Stephen growled again, his belly churning. He didn't want to share his mother with anyone. Whatever boyfriend would drop by, he would make his life a living hell. No one took his mum away from him. (He really was a mother's boy.) And of course, he was protective of his mum, if his asshole of a father had dumped them.

Placing the picture back on his nightstand, he sighed. Where was his mum? Well... Shopping or working. (Or meeting her new lover.)

Stephen grumbled and turned to look at the cape. "Is my mum working?"

Please, please, please, let her be working! Or shopping. Oh! Maybe, she was buying new clothes for him! Would make sense and -

The nodding cape made him sigh happily. She was just working. No secret lover. "When is she coming back?" He asked, realizing how stupid a question he was asking. The cape could only do yes and no. As expected, it shrugged.

Stephen sighed lowly. Did he have a watch somewhere? He might ask the cape to point at the time his mum came back. Yet… he guessed he needed to kill some time until then anyway.

"What do I do to pass the time?"

Play with his toy-weapons, he knew, but the cape wouldn't allow it. Cape floated into the room at his question, pointing at the books. He read in his free time?

Stephen toyed with the idea for some long seconds. Didn't feel wrong, at least.

He jumped off the bed and onto his feet, grabbed a book and turned it from side to side.

Glancing at Santa's cape, he realized it was watching him. Watching him closely. Even if he made a run for the door to get to his actual toys, he would be caught. Probably with chilling ease.

Dropping the book onto his bed, he tried his best puppy dog pleading begging eyes impression.

"Can I watch TV, please?" He asked. Better than reading some weird book about magic for sure.


End file.
